A Goddamn War Hero
by The3ofSpades
Summary: Based in Mass Effect 2. Georgiana Shepard's breakdown and affirmation of self before going through the Omega 4 relay.
1. Chapter 1

**01  
**  
This woman was a hardened warrior. A big goddamn hero. He'd once seen her charge at a Krogan Warlord, fueled with enough rage and biotics to knock it on its back. She then proceeded to pry open its jaw with her boot and blast a shotgun shell into its open mouth.  
Needless to say, he was impressed.  
Shepard was a real blonde, blue-eyed bitch. The kind you don't want to fuck with.  
Obtaining the Reaper IFF was going to be a regular grab-and-go.

But then came the Husks and Abominations, the only thing that woman really hated to fight. He knew they scared her, though you'd never hear it from her mouth. It took a hunter's perspective to even sense her fear. The way she tensed up when they first heard those unnatural sounds echoing underneath the catwalk. Her brief inhale and the immediate tightening of her grip on her pistol.  
But they were easy enough to kill. They were soft and squishy things, as Grunt would say. You could shoot 'em in the legs and they'd go down. Or toss them up in the air with biotics and they'd splatter on impact.  
Obviously _that_ couldn't be what scared her. She was as deadly as a thresher maw. He was pretty sure she could spit acid too with how much sting was behind her voice.  
But no, she was still human.  
It was probably the memories. Knowing what they once were: people.  
Once living, breathing human beings now cursed to a fate worse than death. A swarming hive that just ran at you, no thought for self-preservation. Glowing eyed and slack-jawed. "Creepy," as the Turian put it.  
And boy, there were a fuck of a lot of them on that derelict Reaper.

She took it like a soldier though.  
That initial tenseness led to a flare up of her biotics and she pushed the first wave of them off the ledges and against the walls. They painted their path in cybernetic slime or whatever leaked through those creature's veins now.  
Every time they came crawling onto the catwalks, she'd let loose a shockwave and bark orders at him and the Turian,  
"Scions! Get to cover!"  
"Grenade, Massani!"  
"Shoot the crates, Garrus!"

The Turian would end up real sore about that last one; those crates were explosive. She was too close to them for comfort but the husks were swarming. She had nowhere to run. She was out of heat sinks and didn't have enough time to build up her biotics to knock them all away on her own.  
When the crate exploded, it did its job. It also sent a bit of shrapnel flying at the Commander's face.

The area was clear after a couple more well-placed shots. He and Zakarian cringed when she turned to them to ask for another sink before the next wave showed.  
A couple of deep gashes under her cheekbone, burn marks from the heat.  
She turned her head in time not to get any serious damage; some medigel would help it heal up fine.  
Still, it was a shame she had to mar her pretty face like that. Especially after all that trouble she went through to hide those cybernetic implants and scars.

What was he saying?  
The rest of the mission went on without much of a hitch. They tore through the Reaper carcass, found what they were looking for, and ended it all with a nice explosion and a little credit bounty for the Geth they recovered.  
Another satisfying mission complete.  
But no one was prepared for how real it was going to get.  
Shepard was _supposed_ to be a hardened warrior. A hero.  
But everyone has to break at some point.


	2. Chapter 2

**02**

The mission was successful.  
EDI just needed to get the IFF figured out and integrate it into the Normandy's systems. After that, they'd have everything they needed to go through the Omega 4 Relay and bring the fight to the Collectors.  
The entire ship was upgraded with the finest artillery and shielding. The squad was outfitted with the best weapons and armor money could buy. Their loose ends had been tied up and they were all completely focused on the mission ahead.  
The suicide mission. Everyone was prepared for that plunge into the abyss.  
They all trusted their Commander.  
It was now the calm before the storm.

After watching that dead Reaper drift toward the planet's core, all Shepard wanted was a stiff drink. Jumping off a platform through space to get onto the Normandy wasn't exactly fun. She hated having to trust Sir Isaac Newton that they would land safely in the airlock after hurtling through that tiny bit of frightening uncertainty.  
It reminded her of a similar event that she'd rather forget.  
The Husks and that stupid Geth brought up memories she'd stuffed so deep down that it caused her to lose check of her nerves.  
The uncontrollable tensing at every horrible noise had forced her to use biotics just to keep her hands steady; it radiated off of her, made her skin itch and her brain crawl.  
That's why they had to blast through those ugly things and get the fuck out of there ASAP.

But it was over now. It was another mission complete; another report to be written and filed away.  
Handing the IFF over to the crew to deal with, Shepard changed out of her armor. Miranda waived the mission debrief until she got some rest. "You don't look so well, Commander."  
Bitch always had something unnecessary to say.  
The only thing running through her mind after watching that first Husk's body bust open and drip through the metal grate floor was, "I will do whatever is fucking necessary to make it to the bottle of whiskey waiting on the nightstand."  
Drink and isolation were still beckoning as she made way toward her cabin.  
A rough, familiar voice met her in the elevator, "How's the face holding up, Shepard?"

Zaeed's words were like a wall and she had run full-speed right into them. The ship suddenly materialized around her as if she was previously in some kind of trance.  
Her face burned. Her joints ached. She was nauseous, dizzy, and ready to collapse.  
How long had she been like this? Was it adrenaline, exhaustion? Fear?  
Zaeed reached out and took her arm, steadied her after she stumbled through the doors.  
"Shit," he sighed, guiding Shepard to the wall to lean against, "Let's get you to the doc."  
The world went dark the moment the back of her head was resting on the cold metal wall. The console next to her beeped, the elevator lurched downward, the warm grip of a hand returned to her arm.

The moment she heard the doors again, her eyes fluttered open. She was met with a rough, albeit concerned mercenary's stare.  
"Can you walk on your own?"  
She tried to push herself into a standing position but her body refused to comply. All she could manage was a slight shake of her head.  
Zaeed took the arm he had been holding to steady her and lifted it up around his neck, his other arm sliding around her waist.  
Slowly, he helped her hobble her way past the crew in the mess hall and into the med bay.

Dr. Chakwas sighed the moment she saw her old friend, seeming strangely amused. "Some things never change, do they Georgiana? Always the forgetful biotic. Those nutrient shakes are in your field pack for a reason."  
The doctor motioned for Zaeed to set the Commader down on one of the cots.  
"Get some medi-gel for her face. I'll fetch her something to eat and return shortly."

The doctor hurried out of the room and the med bay doors closed behind her. Zaeed finally moved Shepard's arm from around his neck so that he could move freely. She hadn't realized it was still there, though she figured she was fine to sit up without his support. A hand went up lazily to rub her eyes, wipe some of the grogginess away, but recoiled after accidently brushing her wound.  
"How bad is it?"  
Zaeed was already back at her side, medi-gel in hand.  
"Not as bad as mine," he laughed, "You got nothing to worry about."  
He moved his hand up toward her, lingering, making sure it was alright to touch her face. She nodded, tilted her head and he began applying the gel over the gashes and burns.  
A small, noisy breath escaped her lips, eyes darting shut as a first instinct to the pain. But it faded quickly. Her focus on it lessened with the gel's effects and shifted to the feel of the man's calloused fingers resting where the back of her neck met her shoulders.  
When she opened her eyes to look at him, Zaeed removed his hand and gave her a knowing smirk.  
"You'll be alright, Shep." He nodded, standing up to take his leave as Chakwas reentered the room.

She watched him as he left, eyes still trained on the door after it had closed. The doctor placed a tray of food on her lap and her gaze shifted.  
Something pulled at her lips that she hadn't felt for a long time: a smile. Its origins were as questionable as the meal in front of her. But Shepard ate it, savoring every bite of the nutrient infused slop as if it was her last. The tray was almost empty when she had finally lost her strength, her body giving way. Falling back into the cot, she drifted into a deep sleep, last thoughts still romanticizing the whiskey on her nightstand.  
It was _supposed_ to be the calm before the storm.  
Nothing ever works out like it's supposed to.


	3. Chapter 3

_Note: I reworked this chapter a lot, so here you go with a re-submission._

**03**

The Normandy was almost to Illium for a final supply run when EDI requested that travel be suspended. The Reaper IFF was nearing employment readiness and she insisted on some final tests being run, without risk of damaging the ship's other systems. She advised the crew to take the shuttle for the remainder of the journey. The Normandy's combat crew was more than happy to leave and secure whatever they needed planetside, personal or otherwise. Taking the shuttle made it seem more like shore leave and less like the last stop to suicide.

When the shuttle touched down in Nos Astra, everyone went their separate ways. Miranda took Jacob to go catch up with her Cerberus contacts. Grunt decided to purchase his "last meal" at a souvenir kiosk which sells exotic fish. Tali and Garrus went to see a movie. Mostly everyone else went to go make personal calls or acquire supplies. And Shepard made way with Zaeed to the bar.

Omega was one of the other options for the supply run but most of the crew didn't think the danger was worth it. Having the Omega 4 Relay so close by was also a bit disheartening, though it would have made for a shorter trip. The Citadel was another option but it held too many memories for the crew, and the Commander thought it was fucking awful place in general, so Illium was next on the list. As for the bar, Eternity wasn't at all like the seedy watering holes of the Terminus Systems that they usually frequented. But still, it had booze.

Shepard headed for the back room and Zaeed went to fetch two "mystery drinks" from the bar. They were both pretty sure it was just a generic mixed drink with coloring additives to trick the tourists into paying more. But shots and honeyed mead didn't really seem to fit the occasion. Shepard sat on the edge of the couch in the far corner of the back room. Through the window she could watch the shuttles fly past glittering office buildings and lush apartments. For a moment she imagined that she wasn't Commander Shepard, the first human SPECTRE, Savior of the Citadel and Vanguard of the Galaxy. She imagined if just that last title wasn't true, if she had died and stayed dead. The thud of a tumbler on the table brought her back from the edges of her grim thoughts. Zaeed took the seat across from her.

"What's on your mind, Shep?"  
"I don't keep you around to ask me questions, Massani," she took her eyes off the window and picked up the glass, "Or for your good looks."  
He laughed, "Then what do you keep me around for?"  
"Your cheery disposition, of course," She shrugged and smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

Shepard's expression narrowed as she looked into the colored liquid, almost sure it was some different drink from the last time they were here. Not to be fazed, she shrugged again and downed the whole glass, resting it heavily on the table afterwards. The mercenary had a quick laugh and finished his own drink as well, standing up to go fetch two more.

Ever since the Collector ship, even the first night after her resurrection, Shepard had been developing nightmares and imaginations that seemed to grow worse the closer they got to the suicide mission. Chakwas had advised her strictly against alcohol. Biotics can metabolize alcohol more quickly than others but this leads them to think they can drink excessively more, greatly increasing their risk of alcohol poisoning. So Chambers tried her best with therapy but talking about it just seemed to be making it worse. Jack offered sparring but Joker didn't like the idea of two "crazy" biotics tearing up his ship. Jacob suggested getting a pet; Shepard suggested a Varren but Grunt was the only crew member who agreed. And then during some quick down time on Omega, Zaeed bought her a drink. It was the only thing that really helped when her thoughts threatened to overtake her. She was very careful and the occasional drunken night after stressful missions didn't seem to be affecting her performance.

They'd finished their second round and started in on a third when Shepard finally decided to speak up.  
"Hey, Massani. Thanks."  
Talking wasn't their usual custom so it took him a while for the words to register.  
"What in the hell for?"  
"Hm? What did I say earlier?"  
He laughed, "How come you get to ask all the fucking questions?"  
"Because your job is to throw the grenades and tell awful bedtime stories."  
"Yes ma'am," he smirked, "And you're welcome."

Shepard considered making sure he knew what she was thanking him for. But she wasn't sure herself, really. He was a hell of a soldier. The Commander always made sure the mercenary was watching her back and the irony of it was never lost on her. She trusted him as much as Garrus and Jack to get a job done. He was always ready, always prepared for every mission and every drunken adventure. He seemed to be one of the only members on her team that believed the ends sometimes justified the means. He knew what sacrifice meant. He didn't question her.

Before Shepard could form the words to speak, a voice came over the emergency channel.  
"Commander, report to the shuttle immediately!"  
The two drinking companions exchanged a brief look of surprise before springing into action.  
She responded as they rushed toward the exit, "Lawson, report."  
The operative's voice was uncharacteristically haggard, "Commander, we've received a distress signal. The Normandy has been attacked. If it's the Collectors… We have to hurry!"

The two had double-timed to the shuttle bay and saw the rest of the crew hurriedly boarding with their supplies. All was prepped and ready to go. Miranda assisted Zaeed and the Commander onto the hovering shuttle before the doors closed and it immediately took off.

The shuttle ride was gravely silent, an air of tension and trepidation forcing everyone's mouths closed. Shepard sat next to Zaeed in one corner of the shuttle, nightmares and terrible imaginings coming further to the front of her mind the nearer they drew to the Normandy. The three drinks had only made her mind a little fuzzy, a little more susceptible. Shepard remembered the first time her ship was attacked by Collectors. She remembered it all too well. Her eyes focused on the floor, her hands began to tremble, her breath quickened. Hyperventilation might have been the next step if Zaeed had not laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned to meet his eyes and was met with that stern and concerned look. Shepard took a deep breath to regain her composure, straightening up and giving him a small smile. Zaeed returned the smile with a quick nod and removed his hand. He never took his eye off of her after that.


End file.
